Making up her mind, she moved to the kitchen and grabbed one of the chairs. She dug through her tool bag and pulled out her screwdriver.
She stood up on the chair and went to work loosening the bolts on the vent. The creature backed away. Once the last screw was off, she pulled off the grating.
The little creature hunkered about twenty feet away, at a turn in the ductwork. The vent was too dark for H124 to make out any details. She felt thrilled and scared and awestruck. This thing was alive, but completely alien to her.
She backed off, wondering if it might come back to the edge. Thinking better of it, she opened up one of the MREs, something called soy-based meatloaf, and broke off a chunk. Gently she placed it at the mouth of the vent.
She lowered herself out of sight and returned to the kitchen.
She heard the animal move toward the front of the vent, and then a soft chewing. Quietly she peered around the corner and saw the white face framed in the vent. Its eyes shot toward her at once, two black spheres set in a face of snowy fur. It had gray, rounded ears and a pink nose. She drew closer. She could see blood soaking the fur on its shoulder. As she moved near, it fell over on its side, tongue sticking out.
She stood up on the chair to get a closer look. It was more than a foot long, not including its thick, naked tail. Its little feet were strange things. It had fingers like her, but they were situated oddly. And though it was breathing, it continued to lie there, tongue out.
She reached up, touching the fur very softly. The thing didn’t move. Gingerly, she scooped the creature up in her hands and lifted it out of the vent. It lay immobile. She got it over to the table and laid it down. Now she could see a bad wound in its shoulder, a jagged cut. She’d sewn herself up plenty of times, because workers couldn’t use the biomed chambers unless they had a mortal injury.
She dug around in her tool bag and pulled out her first aid kit. She looked back at the creature, now standing and staring at her. As soon as she moved toward it, it flopped over on its side again, tongue out.
It lay still as she cleaned the wound. Then she got out her surgical needle and thread. She sterilized the needle with her pocket pyro and carefully sewed the gash shut. Still the creature didn’t move. She wondered if it was unconscious.
When she got up to wash her hands, she heard a scuffle on the table. The creature had leaped down from the chair to the floor, its black eyes penetrating her. She leaned closer, and once more it fell onto its side.
She realized it was playing dead, though she didn’t know why. She fought back an urge to laugh, which caught her off guard. She’d hardly ever laughed.
Returning to the kitchen, she picked out two small bowls and filled one with water, the other with the rest of the MRE she’d opened. She watched in utter fascination as the creature, largely prone all this time, now opened its eyes. It stood up and began tottering around the room.
H124 remained as still as she could. It wasn’t anything like the maggots and roaches she’d seen. It was soft and furry and warm. She smiled, delighted to see it explore the room, sniffing at everything. Finally it found the bowl of water and lapped up a few drops. Then it began eating the MRE.
She thought back to the books with their pictures, and she quietly moved to the bookshelf. She saw one called The Magnificent World of Animals, recognizing the last word. She pulled it down and began flipping through it
It showed hundreds—no—thousands of images of exotic animals, with maps showing where they were found, and numbers describing their sizes. She stopped, jaw agape. Was this book saying that all these creatures existed? Some had feathers, which she’d only seen on clothing. She hadn’t known that those came from living creatures. There appeared to be scores of animals with feathers of every color. She got to a section regarding furred animals and started turning the pages more slowly. A grin cut across her face. There it was, the gray-and-white creature sitting not a foot away. She read the name: opossum. She could read only a few of the words in its description, but the image showed one of its kin carrying three babies on its back.
It ate things called snails, berries, and leaf litter, among other things. Tomorrow she’d go rummaging for food and let it stay here with her while it healed. She placed the book down.
Exhausted, she returned to bed. The old PRD she’d found glowed softly on the charging station. She checked its battery level. Forty-six percent full. She brought up its hovering display. It was even older than she’d guessed, probably twenty years or more.
The screen resolved to show a series of video files. She waved past them, finding a locator map like the one that came on all PRDs, but these were the only things installed on it. It was completely stripped down. She waved back to the video page. The files progressed by date, so she picked the earliest one, dated a little more than ten years prior.
It loaded slowly, and for a minute she thought it wouldn’t load up at all. It might have been too old.
Then the file played.
A young man, probably a little younger than she was, stared into the camera. His black hair hung past his shoulders, framing a handsome russet face. He smiled awkwardly. “Hi, there,” he said, his voice deep and soothing. “Thought I’d put my mom’s old PRD to some good use.” He looked
